


*Lady L'Arachel Tries to Flirt*

by UsaChan1997



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 14:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsaChan1997/pseuds/UsaChan1997
Summary: After the events of Ephraim and L'Arachel's B support, L'Arachel seeks help from her friends about confronting her feelings for the densest prince alive.





	1. Curves

L’Arachel must have been going crazy.

It was the only logical explanation. She had thought herself immune to such madness, such folly. After all, she was a spectacular specimen, destined for greatness.  
From childhood she’d possessed a sharp mind, a stalwart constitution, impeccable manners. Not so much as a common cold had breached her.

So, then, why was she so focused on a scar? On the man who bore it?

At first, L’Arachel had been sure it was her boundless compassion that made her fixate on the reckless Prince of Renais and his injury. His shoulder. Toned, muscular, bare of armor. How caring she was, wanting to touch it again…

Ridiculous! Shameful! Such thoughts were not befitting of a proper lady. It made no sense. Why did she constantly crave his attention? Why did his earnest eyes cut to her core at every glance? It was annoying from the outset, but now? Utterly unbearable. Upon consulting fairytales and legends of adventurers past, she came to the conclusion that there was only one solution, an outlet of sorts. She would have to flirt.

Unfortunately for L’Arachel, she had never done so before, she had no idea how to go about such things. With her deficiencies in mind, she decided it would be best to seek counsel from the army’s resident romancer.

“You want to know how to flirt?” Forde’s gaze was incredulous, his paintbrush frozen mid-stroke at her question. “With who?”

“Hmph,” L’Arachel crossed her arms, defensive. “I am stooping to seek your aid. Please refrain from asking such invasive questions.”

“So you don’t want to know, then? That’s fine, I’ll get back to my canvas.” Forde rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation; unbeknownst to L’Arachel, the tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Ugh, wait. It’s… Lord Ephraim.” She said in a small voice, avoiding eye contact.

Forde gaped as he let that sink in for a second, then his smile came back in full force. “How unfortunate for you. You pick ‘em as dense as they come, Princess.”

“Tell me how to catch his eye. Please,” L’Arachel pressed. “You’ve engaged in more than your share of debauchery, I’m sure.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.” Forde set down his brush, creasing his brow in thought. “Hm. I would tell you to engage in some witty banter, but knowing Ephraim, he’ll take it platonically. You could write him a love letter, but that idiot wouldn’t read it right away. He’d forget and crumple it up in his pocket, or leave it behind as we make camp, or set it on fire by mistake… too many variables.”

L’Arachel frowned, disheartened. She hadn’t thought courtship such a complicated endeavor.

Suddenly, Forde snapped his fingers, looking like he’d come to a revelation. “Ah, I have it! Though our Prince is a novice in the romance department, he is still a man. Just show off some of your curves. That will be simplest.”

“My curves, I see!” L’Arachel beamed, clasping the knight’s hands in appreciation. “Who better than a painter to see the artistry in a woman’s form. Thank you, Sir Forde!”

Newly motivated, L’Arachel returned to her chambers and examined her wardrobe, trying to decide which curve to show off. Though she was technically royalty, her dresses were all plain and modest for the sake of her ruse. And showing off her chest? Unthinkable. But these limitations were no match for her genius. Resolved, L’Arachel concocted a fool-proof plan.

~~  
“Hah!” Ephraim gave one more hearty swing of his practice sword, his muscles burning from exertion. Even so, he felt great, all things considered. Before his constant travels in the campaign for the Sacred Stones, he had never been much of a morning person, but these days, there was nothing he appreciated more than the sunrise.  
Well, almost nothing.

“Lord Ephraim!” came an energetic voice from the direction of the sleeping tents. The young man turned toward it to see Lady L’Arachel, bounding toward him with the usual spring in her step, bathed in the radiant pinks and oranges of the rising sun.

Part of him was relieved she was addressing him normally; she had called him a laundry list of names the other day, and their conversations since then hadn’t been the same, even after he’d apologized. He still didn’t quite understand what he’d done wrong, but seeing her happy drew his lips up in contentment.

“Well met, Lady L’Arachel.” Ephraim wiped the seat from his brow, setting down his practice sword. “What brings you here so early?”

L’Arachel pushed up her sleeves and stretched her arms over her head to mess with her loose ponytail. “Can a lady not simply appreciate the sunrise? You’ve chosen for your morning training the best place to admire it.”

Ephraim laughed. “Well, of course. Now that you mention it, it is beautiful. If you don’t mind, I’ll watch it with you.” The two of them took a seat side by side in the grass, and he turned his gaze to the sky. Like mornings, Ephraim’s previous feelings about sunrises had been neutral at best. But somehow, in this moment, new appreciation bloomed in his chest. He felt simple joy watching the clouds change as they shared each other’s company.

“L-Lord Ephraim,” the Prince turned at the sound of his name, expecting to revert to their usual bickering. Instead, he found Lady L’Arachel’s elbow stuck right in his face—a hair further and she’d have broken his nose. He flinched, maintaining shocked silence as she posed an unexpected question. “Is there… something on my elbow?”

Unsure how to respond, Ephraim squinted, but all he could see was the curve of her arm and her smooth, pale skin. “Hm, I don’t think so. Did you feel something bite you?”

L’Arachel bit her lip, staring at him with troubled eyes, and the young man felt a twinge of something mix with his confusion. “I-I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s something. Please check carefully.” 

At her insistence, Ephraim gently took her forearm in hand, noting how thin and fragile she was. Just like a doll. And yet, she so boldly braved battle after battle, saving lives and slaying monsters in equal measure. In his admiration, he felt the urge to tease her a little; his brow suddenly furrowing. “There may be something…”  
L’Arachel winced, seemingly holding her breath. So cute. He couldn’t keep this up. “Never mind, just a freckle.” He poked it lightly before dropping her arm and flashing a reassuring grin. 

“Not funny, what if I was really injured?” L’Arachel pouted, arms crossed.

“Then I’d repent for the rest of my life,” he joked. Noting her irritation, he changed the topic. “Maybe your muscles are sore from wielding your staff. Do you want a massage?” 

Lady L’Arachel’s face spontaneously caught flame. “Do I… do I WHAT?”

Ephraim blinked innocently. “It’s no trouble. Father Moulder taught be a brilliant technique for pain relief. You shouldn’t work yourself too hard—” He reached for her arm again, but she leapt back.

“How.. how indecent!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving Ephraim confused and questioning his well-meaning offer. Did I do something wrong?


	2. Scars

What a disaster. L’Arachel couldn’t get the image of the Prince’s confused face out of her head. His nonchalance as he touched her bare arms, as if she were a workout partner and not a woman of renown—agh! How frustrating! She felt her cheeks heat up, shaking her head to banish those unpleasant thoughts.

But his touch had been gentle. Much more caring than she expected of someone of his considerable strength. Thinking about it sent her heart beating into a frenzy….

No, no! She needed a new plan. Asking Forde had been a mistake. His success with women had blinded L’Arachel to the fact that he was still an idiot. And a man, at that. The Princess of Rausten needed advice from a fellow woman. Someone exceedingly intelligent. There was only one rational choice.

“Love?” Lute only seemed vaguely interested as she scoured the pages of a giant, ornate tome. “I wish I could help you, Lady L’Arachel, but my books say little on the subject.”

“But, you’re so smart!” L’Arachel insisted. “And it seems as if you have that young priest and that gruff knight wrapped around your little finger. Any advice you can spare would be much appreciated.”

Finally, Lute’s eyes rose to meet L’Arachel’s, sparkling with new interest. “So, you recognize that I’m a true prodigy?” She grinned. “You have keen eyes, so I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, Lute!” L’Arachel took a seat across from the mage, careful not to knock over the stacks of books piled around her workspace. Lute pushed the tome she was studying aside, rifling through the convoy’s books before pulling out a thin volume.

“There haven’t been many scientific studies about romantic attraction as of yet, but if I remember correctly,” she flipped to a certain page. “Yes, here. Apparently, women with low voices are appealing to men. They perceive it as sexier. So, next time you talk to the guy you like, lower your voice, and his interest should increase.”

“Lute, you are a genius and dear friend!”

~~  
As the day’s march was coming to its end, L’Arachel rode to the front, to Ephraim’s side. “Lord Ephraim!” she called, belatedly realizing that she was already going against Lute’s advice. 

“Lady L’Arachel, how do you fare?” Ephraim slowed down his steed’s pace to match hers. 

She promptly lowered her voice to a whisper. “I fare well. How are you?”

“What was that?” Ephraim asked, riding closer. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I fare well,” she repeated, softer. “I hope you are also in high spirits.”

“Lady L’Arachel,” Ephraim leaned toward her, face clouded in concern. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you. Is your throat dry? We are about to make camp, I can fetch you some water.” 

He made to ride away, but instinctually, L’Arachel grabbed his sleeve. Upon noting his evident shock, anxiety tugged at the pit of her stomach. But she wasn’t about to commit halfway. She spoke in the tiniest whisper imaginable. “I’m well, how fare you?”

“I… will get you that water.”

Catastrophic. Yet again. L’Arachel felt hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, barely registering her surroundings. Perhaps, as it was the divine will of the gods that she should become a hero, it was fate that she should never enthrall Ephraim as she so wished.

~~  
“She did what?” Eirika laughed, sitting across from her brother in her quarters and nearly choking on her tea as she took in Ephraim’s story. “Oh, brother. She’s got it bad.”

“’It’? What is ‘it’?” Ephraim groaned, exasperated. “Eirika, I’m getting worried about her. I hope she hasn’t fallen ill. I was thinking of asking Sister Natasha to check in and make sure she isn’t overworking herself. I’d hate to see anything happen…” he let his sentence trail off. 

Eirika studied him, inquisitive. “You know, I remember when we first met Lady L’Arachel. She was all bravado and bombast and you got this look on your face like the world was ending. Like it would be a pain to deal with this person, that it was a shame she was necessary to our quest.” Ephraim frowned. His sister wasn’t wrong.

Eirika continued. “But then, you saw the true L’Arachel. That for all her flamboyant talk of heroics, she really did help people everywhere she went. For all her apparent selfishness, she is equally kind.”

Ephraim chuckled a little, in spite of himself. “That is an understatement. She’s an invaluable member of this army.”

Eirika took another sip. “You know, you always look happier when she’s nearby. You’re naturally a bit socially awkward, but your conversations with her are always so easy and full of life. Everyone notices.”

Ephraim grew sullen. “Not lately. Lately, trying to talk is like trudging though a bog.”

“Well, you like her, don’t you?”

“Of course. I like everyone here.” Ephraim said.

Eirika smacked his arm. “No, dummy. I mean ‘like’ in the romantic sense.”

Ephraim’s face immediately went beet-red. “Sis, you can’t ask me that—”

“So that’s a ‘yes’.” Eirika smiled. “Then you have to talk with her. From what you’ve told me, it seems like she has feelings for you and wants you to notice.” 

“I don’t think that’s the case.” Ephraim stared into his half-empty cup. “Anytime I make physical contact, she flees. Not to mention that incident with my scar—”

“Don’t you get it?” Eirika rolled her eyes. “Lady L’Arachel doesn’t have much experience. She’s nervous because she finds you charming.” She put an encouraging hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s good that you’re considering her feelings, but don’t you think it would be best to confirm them yourself?”

“Ugh, I’m terrible with words. And anyway, I don’t want to hear this from you, of all people. When will you and that stubborn General admit your—”

“I’ll stop you right there!” Eirika held up a hand, ushering him to leave her quarters. “This is about you. Go find her. And if words fail and you want to convey your affection, try looking into her eyes, then tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She will definitely swoon.”

“How cheesy,” Ephraim deadpanned.

“Get going!”

~~  
L’Arachel was struggling to fall asleep when she heard a knock on the entryway of her tent. What could this be? A monster? A lecher? A potential kidnapper? She pulled her staff from under her pillow and pulled it close with a white-knuckled grip. Steel yourself, woman! She thought. Honor the bravery of your parents and fight as providence dictates—

“Lady L’Arachel?” A voice called. A male voice. L’Arachel jolted upright with sudden realization.

“Epharaim.” She answered, blinking. “What is it?”

“May I come in?”

At this time of night? She was tempted to dismiss him out of hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she drew a shawl around her shoulders and peeked through the tent’s entrance. “I suppose, but let’s make this quick.” 

There was a bout of awkward silence as the two of them stared at each other. Neither of them sitting down or moving to speak. Finally, the Prince of Renais let out a sigh. “I… I think I owe you an apology.”

“Oh?” L’Arachel quirked an eyebrow.

“I must have offended your sensibilities with the whole shoulder-scar thing, and then the offer of the massage. I want you to know that I hold no lecherous intentions. I apologize.”

“So you—” L’Arachel fought the tempest of swirling emotions inside her, settling somewhere between anger and hurt. “You don’t find me attractive at all?”

“What?” Ephraim balked. “I never said that.”

“You implied it.” L’Arachel could tell from the look on his face that she was stepping into uneasy territory, but in moments like these, it was her nature to lean into it. “How dare you. I’ll have you know there are thousands of men who would die to bask in my ethereal glory, and you have the nerve to dismiss me like some commoner—”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset. You were the one who lashed out at the prospect of my acting indecently, and now you’re angry? What have I done wrong?”

“Everything!” L’Arachel snapped. “Don’t you get it? I’m losing sleep! I keep thinking about those infernal scars on your muscular body, those smoldering eyes of yours, your lustful gaze. I thought the only way to fix this was to give in to my thoughts and seduce you myself, but you’ve the emotional capacity of a wooden plank, you idi—"

Ephraim cut her off with a kiss. It was a peck, really. Chaste and sweet. Eyes wide, L’Arachel was speechless. “If it isn’t clear,” he said in a husky whisper. “I have already been seduced. I… I’m in love with you, L’Arachel.” She was mesmerized by his gaze, and as if they were two magnets of opposing charges, they drifted together once more. L’Arachel had never kissed anyone before, but she could see the appeal as Ephraim wrapped one arm around her back and stroked her cheek with his free hand.

“Why,” L’Arachel breathed between kisses. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not good with words.” Ephraim trailed his tongue across her collarbone, stopping at her bare shoulder to give her a little love-bite.

“You brute,” L’Arachel muttered, half-laugh, half-moan. Then she suddenly realized that in his simple tunic, Ephraim’s shoulder was bared as well. Her eyes fell to the very scar that had set her flirting crusade in motion. Hesitantly, raised her hand, tracing over its jagged path with her the tips of her fingers.

“I have many scars. Can you heal them, milady?” Ephraim whispered teasingly into her ear.

L’Arachel threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently once more. She could certainly heal his scars, she thought, but the Prince looked so beautiful this way. A piece of art perfect in its imperfection. “I think,” she answered. “I think I like them.”


End file.
